A Child by Any Other Name
by Colonial Nightingale
Summary: Everyone had always said Harry was special. True, the qualities that set Harry apart from the others changed drastically depending on who you asked. But everyone always agreed that Harry was special. He didn't want to be, but it will take a team of Muggles to show Harry that it is okay to be special as long as you are being true to yourself. NCIS/HP Crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing. Just inspired by the many NCIS/HP crossovers I have been reading lately.

**Full Summary:** Everyone had always said Harry was special. True, the qualities that set Harry apart from the others changed drastically depending on who you asked. But everyone always agreed that Harry was special. He didn't want to be, but it will take a team of Muggles to show Harry that it is okay to be special as long as you are true to yourself. NCIS/HP Crossover.

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**A Child by Any Other Name**

**[ Part I: Prologue ]**

Everyone has always said Harry was special.

Sure, there were varying opinions on the qualities that made him stand out amongst his peers, depending on who you asked, but Harry knew it was true.

He had heard it all his life, starting with his relatives.

Mind, the Dursley's thought that he was more "special in the head" than actually _special_.

He had spent most of his life thinking that his parents were no good bums who leeched off of the hardworking and honest do-gooders of society. That was the path that he was on the fast-track to becoming, according to the Dursley's.

For _years_ Harry had had to listen to his relatives bemoan to anyone who would lend a sympathetic ear, that regardless of how hard they might have tried to "help" him get his life on track their efforts had always been in vain as he was just "dead set" on becoming a criminal like his lousy good-for-nothing father.

And it was only natural, that the Dursley's reminded him as frequently as possible that it was _only_ out of the kindness of their hearts that they took him in and that any "normal" child would be grateful that they at least cared enough about _him_ to do _that_.

Harry was not a normal child. Sometimes, when he was younger, Harry wished the Dursley's hadn't cared enough about him to take him in, because surely a life at the orphanage was better than any life he could have at the Dursley's. At least there was a chance that he could be adopted one day, on the condition that someone wanted a freak like him.

But of course, he wasn't that lucky.

Instead, he was resigned to the fact that the Dursley's would always regret taking him in.

The Dursley's would always hate him, no matter what he did or didn't do. If he achieved greatness in his life, it would be because he used "voodoo magic" on some poor unexpected bloke.

And if he didn't do anything, then it was destined. At least according to the Dursley's- and _only_ the Dursley's- his parents hadn't done anything with their lives either.

Then there was the world that his parents had belonged to- the one he belonged to.

They, too, viewed him as being _special_. Like Olivander once said: "I think we must expect great things from you…" But in truth, maybe the greater part of magical Britain didn't just expect him to be great, but they _demanded_ it. The older he got, the more he saw it.

They viewed him as unique, even- a far cry from what the Dursley's viewed him. He was considered to be special because he was a _survivor_. He had managed to survive an attempt at his life by one of the greatest megalomaniacs of the twentieth century. And because of that, they expected him to save them from this "reign of terror."

But regardless of what people say, or for what reason, Harry knew that he didn't want to be special. If being "special" meant being an orphan, living with loveless relatives who loved nothing more than to degrade him or having one's destiny foretold by the very people he was supposed to save. He didn't want to be any of it. He just wanted to be Harry. Only Harry and nothing more. Not the Boy-Who-Lived. Not a freak.

However, it was clear that everyone Harry associated with would never accept him for just him. Well, almost everyone.

Ron and Hermione were probably the only exceptions to the rule. They seemed to be content with Harry being just himself. Of course, Hermione wished that he took his schooling a bit more serious, and Ron probably wished he had a bit of Harry's popularity, but neither of them treated Harry any different than the rest of their peers. It was nice to be just Harry around them, not a freak and not a savior. It was the one time he was able to relax and let his guard down.

Even his professors expect something, well more. It was hard to put the finger on what it was they wanted from him, but they all seemed to expect him to have his mother's passion for knowledge or to carry on his father's legacy.

Except for Snape. Snape was like the Dursley's- just another person he would always be at odds with.

**[ Part II: Default Chapter ]**

Three weeks ago, he had defeated Voldemort for the second time.

Two weeks ago, he had been shipped back to the Dursley's with little more than a pat on the back from Dumbledore. The Dursley's had begrudgingly welcomed him back with the dark promise that he would more than make up for messing up their day, their week, and probably their whole lives.

Harry had spent the following week had been spent in equal parts, making up for months of missed chores and avoiding the Dursley's. It was actually fairly easy avoiding his relatives during the day. Uncle Vernon was at work for the better part of the day. Whereas his cousin was almost always in front of the TV or raiding the kitchen of all its sweets, or doing both. That was the only time Harry had ever seen the overweight boy multitask. His aunt was usually away catching up with all the local gossip at the Gardening and Book clubs she was apart of or catering to Dudley's needs. If she wasn't doing that, then she was standing over him, scolding him.

It was when his uncle got home that things got violent.

And it was one week ago his uncle had come home smiling so wide that his watery beady eyes became invisible under his rounded cheeks boasting loudly how _he_, of all people, had been nominated by his company to go over to the U.S. for a week and negotiate an agreement with a company over there. It might have been a business trip, but it was an _all-paid_ business trip for the whole family. That included Harry, not that Harry would mention that. He didn't care if he went or not, but the Dursley's had cared.

The following days all Harry heard were the Dursley's arguing over what to do with "the boy," as Aunt Marge and Colonel Fubster had flown out to Majorca the week before for a few weeks and they did not have anyone else they could ask to go in Harry's stead. Of course, they had entertained the idea of leaving Harry behind, but neither his aunt or uncle trusted him to leave him left unsupervised in their house, so that idea was quickly scrapped, and Arabella Figg couldn't take him in for whatever reason. Harry thought she said something about one of her precious cats being sick, so the Dursley's were left with no other excuse but to take him along.

Of course, Harry had to deal with uncle Vernon accusing Harry of bewitching one of Mrs. Figg's cats, which Harry might have found funny since the Dursley's had never shown the slightest interest in any of their neighbor's cats, other than to say something uncomplimentary about them.

So here Harry was a week after his uncle had announced a "family trip" to Washington, D.C., waiting with a trolley at the luggage claim area of Ronald Reagan International Airport while his relatives went in search of some "actual food."

Harry scoured the area for the luggage, hoping that it would come soon as he was starting to get some odd looks. Harry knew he was a sight. A kid by himself, wearing an oversized, well-worn long-sleeved shirt, in an attempt to hide some of the welts, and cuts that littered his arms. As for his holey jeans, and the bruises that were visible there, he would let people assume whatever. It was uncommon for boys his age to be scuffed up as they tended to play rough, so it wasn't as big of a deal if the bruises showed down there where it would be harder for people to make a connection as to how the injuries actually came to be. But he knew people were watching him, and many were looking at him out of concern.

Harry didn't want their pity; it wasn't going to help him get away from the Dursley's. If anything, it would just serve as a hindrance and cause him more pain in the end. Harry was careful not to make any eye contact with any of the passing adults or engage in any conversations that were happening around him as people began showing their irritation at the apparent delay.

Finally, _finally_, the luggage appeared, and not a moment too soon, as Harry saw the Dursley's make their way through the crowd. It wasn't hard to miss them as the crowd parted for his uncle and cousin like the sea did for Moses.

"About time you got the luggage boy! We've been waiting for you to show your ruddy face for nearly half-an-hour now! We were about to leave without you and have you wait and find us at the hotel with the luggage finally arrived! Don't know how you would have done that without any money." His uncle hissed lowly at him when they finally approached him while giving him an evil eye before talking loudly towards his wife and son.

"Well, why don't we load up and drop the _baggage_ off at the hotel before we find somewhere to eat, then we can do a bit of sightseeing."


	2. And I'm Still Waiting

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing. Just inspired by the countless NCIS/HP crossovers I have been reading lately.

**Full Summary:** Everyone had always said Harry was special. True, the qualities that set Harry apart from the others changed drastically depending on who you asked. But everyone always agreed that Harry was special. He didn't want to be, but it will take a team of Muggles to show Harry that it is okay to be special as long as you are being true to yourself. NCIS/HP Crossover.

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait. Anyway, with all this Coronavirus stuff going on, I figured I would try to take time and update some. All spelling mistakes are, naturally, my own.

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**[ Chapter One: And I'm Still Waiting ]**

The Dursleys were paranoid; that was why they saw Harry off before they left to do whatever it was they were going to do.

Well, they did not actually _see_ him off. That would have implied that they genuinely _cared_ for him. No, they simply saw that Harry left before them so they could lock him out of the hotel room. That way, he could not do anything potentially freaky in the hotel room while they were gone. He had _accidentally_ forgotten to tell the Dursley's that he wasn't allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts. It had honestly slipped his mind at the time, what with everything going on, and he had not felt the need to tell them when he had remembered.

It wasn't like he could do magic anyway, considering that his wand was locked securely in his "spare bedroom," in Surrey- if you could call the cupboard that. They liked to threaten to lock Harry back in there when he couldn't finish his chores to their liking, but Harry was relatively sure that they wouldn't lock him back in the cupboard. They were still afraid that some of _his lot_ was watching them, which prevented them from doing anything more than yelling at him and assigning countless chores.

Still, the Dursley's erred on the side of caution and warned him not to show himself before nightfall, at the absolute earliest. He, of course, was probably free to stay out all night- all _week_\- for all they cared. This command was something Harry was all too eager to abide by, as he naturally jumped at any chance he got to get away from his shrewish guardian, her abusive husband, and their equally unpleasant son.

So Harry went on his way, and the Dursley's went their way. None of them so much as a glanced back to see where he was going.

Harry did not know where he was going to go; he supposed he could visit some of the Smithsonian museums; he had heard Hermione mention once or twice. She would be put-out if he didn't, but he really didn't care to see a bunch of stuffed figures and objects that once played an essential part in this country's development. The portraits, and other forms of art, or airplanes and spaceships, at least right now, could wait. He had all week to visit them as he had heard that they were free to the public to attend. In Surrey, the only thing he could do without money was to go to the neighborhood park or the library, but he wasn't Hermione and did not enjoy spending copious amounts of time surrounded by books. He got his fill of that when he was at Hogwarts, particularly around exam time. And he was often chased away from the park by Dudley and his gang, so he wasn't overly eager to go to the park.

At least the Smithsonian would serve as a good time-killer and boredom buster for when he got bored wandering around D.C. or if it started raining or something. And it was bound to be packed with other tourists, so if he happened to run into the Dursley's while he was there, he could probably get lost in the crowd and avoid a confrontation with them.

But he doubted that his Aunt and Uncle would waste their time dragging Dudley to more than a couple of "boring museums" when there were bound to be more exciting things to do. So the Smithsonian would probably be a safe place to hang around until he needed to appear at the hotel again.

Walking in the direction he assumed would lead him to the more downtown federal business area of D.C., Harry decided to spend the day just getting his bearings rather than do any real site seeing. He had a reasonably good sense of directions once he got used to a place or area, so without anyone to guide him, Harry set off in the direction that he hoped would take him to the National Mall area.

Harry slowly made his way from the hotel to Constitution Ave. That had been the road they had taken to the hotel. Hence, Harry knew that once he found that Avenue, he wouldn't, or shouldn't, have a problem finding all the government buildings that he knew Hermione would want him to see, or any of the numerous monuments and statues that denoted special events or people. Wondering around, Harry eventually made it to the National Mall and marveled at the expanse of it. It wasn't as wide as it was long, but the whole space was void of trees, making it a clear shot from the Lincoln Memorial to the Capital. Harry just stopped and took it all in, wishing, not for the first time that day, that he had a phone, or a camera, so that he could take pictures and send it to Hermione. She would be jealous, to say the least, when he told her at the beginning of the next term. Harry smiled to himself at his best friend's antics. No doubt, she'd be ready to quiz him on every single detail of the trip.

Deciding to mill around the Lincoln Memorial, reading and re-reading the two inscribed speeches the man was most noted for. Harry didn't have an opinion on the man, as they did not teach muggle world history at Hogwarts. Still, Harry did find himself listening in on the conversations of the other tourist, if for nothing else, but in the vain hope that he would be able to at least follow along with Hermione's ramblings about the immortalized man in front of him.

Harry probably hung out around the Lincoln Memorial for hours until the crowds thinned out, and the sky darkened. He wasn't particularly eager to go back to the hotel room but knew that it was inevitable, as who else was there to unpack their bags for them? As he was sure, Dudley would whine about being too tired from that day's travel to do his own unpacking.

Nevermind, Harry might be tired too as he had traveled just as long as Dudley had.

It was an unspoken rule at the Dursley's that freaks like him didn't deserve to be tired.

Slowly, Harry trekked back in the same direction he had taken hours earlier.

Although it took considerably longer getting back to the hotel, Harry made it back, not too long after the Dursley's had arrived.

Knocking on the door, Harry waited patiently for one of his relatives to come and let him in. He felt kind of like a dog, and in the Dursley's eyes, he was probably no better than the common mongrel.

After several minutes of waiting, Harry knocked again.

Eventually, the door jerked open, and he was faced with an angry Uncle Vernon.

"What do you _think_ you're doing causing all that commotion! Get inside immediately!" Before he was promptly snatched by the collar and pulled in, seconds later, his uncle all but slammed the door.

No sooner than when the door closed, Harry was thrown up against the wall.

"Where were you?" His uncle hissed out the fury evident in his voice.

"Doing what you told me to do, Uncle, roaming the streets until nightfall," Harry gulped while bracing himself for the blow that was sure to come.

"Don't get smart with me, boy!" Snapped his uncle as he gripped his shoulder in a vice-like grip and gave him a solid shake.

Harry felt his head bounce against the wall a few times before his uncle stopped shaking him and all but pushed him down the hall and to the second room, he was supposed to share with Dudley.

"Go to bed! I don't want to see your sorry face until it's time to leave tomorrow morning." Uncle Vernon said while jabbing a fat finger towards a closed door.

"And don't you dare think about keeping Dudley up tonight, boy! He is a growing boy who needs rest." His Aunt added from the little sitting-room.

Harry nodded, not that she could see him, and scurried to the room, softly closing the door and settling in a corner. He knew that sleep would not come to him quickly for a while. Not until everyone was asleep, then and only then would he be willing to let his guard down enough to try to fall asleep.

* * *

Morning came earlier than Harry had anticipated, as the Dursley men were not known for being early risers. Usually, Harry would be woken up by his aunt wrapping on his door, shrilly demanding that he get breakfast started. Still, on this particular morning, it was more or less a repeat of yesterday where the Dursley's made sure he was gone before they headed out. Dudley and his Aunt were planning on going to the Mall and some of the surrounding attractions today. While his uncle was preparing for his first day of the business trip, just before they were ready to head out for a day full of exploring and work, his uncle pulled him aside and threatened him with the "beating of his life" if he so much as ruined a second of their vacation.

His uncle felt a good deal bolder here in the States than he did back in England, probably because he knew that no one was keeping tabs on him.

On his first full day out in the city, Harry discovered that D.C. was much like London in the sense that it was much more than just the central hub for important politicians and lawmakers. There were other jobs, non-governmental that far outnumbered the countless government agencies that lined Constitution Ave.

And where there weren't people working in business and offices, there was construction.

Everywhere he looked, there were men in hard hats and fence lining the perimeter of job sites. Harry did not pay them any mind other than to watch where he stepped.

He didn't pay anyone any mind. And for the most part, no one minded him. On one occasion, there had been an American family who was on a vacation who had approached him in concern. It took countless reassurances that his relatives were in the general area and that he had just wandered off for a couple of minutes, and that he was okay (he did it all the time, really!) they finally left him be.

Harry quickly left the area in fear that they would come back and still see him loitering about and really start asking questions.

By the time night had fallen, and Harry decided it was probably best to start heading back to the hotel, Harry had walked all around the better part of downtown D.C. Although Harry tried to stick to the more densely and well-populated streets since safety was in numbers and all that, he decided to risk-taking relatively short and well-lit alleyway. Harry felt that even though he was in an unknown city, that he would be fine and started walking in the direction he hoped would get him back to the hotel quicker.

He was only a quarter of the way down the road when the calm night turned into anything but. One moment he was walking along, and the next moment he heard someone running. Turning his head to try to find where the fast footfalls were coming from, he suddenly began to wonder if _he_ should start running.

Before he had a chance to decide if he should be running, he found himself being pushed forcefully to the ground by an unseen assailant.

Landing rough, Harry felt his glasses slip off his face and fly across the pavement, leaving him barely able to see anything.

Harry wasn't sure who or why he had been pushed, but the next moment a loud noise cut through the air like a knife somewhere _very_ close by.

Harry didn't need to be able to see to know that it was a gun. Someone was firing a gun. He wasn't thinking in the terms as to why they were firing only that they _were_ firing. And for all he knew or cared, it could have been at _him _they were trying to hit. Oh merlin, he was too young to die! Particularly in such a muggle fashion, although he thought that dying by a bullet was better than him being killed by his whale-of-an-uncle.

Ears still ringing, he scrambled up, to try to find his glasses and bolt the moment he had them securely back on his face when another gunshot rang out. This time it was followed by the sound of something heavy- like a body- hitting the ground.

Glasses lying forgotten where they fell, Harry, in his fear that he might become the gunman's next target dove for cover behind a rubbish bin? Was that a rubbish bin? He couldn't tell due to not having his glasses, and it was a bit dark out but, if that saved him from getting shot like the other guy (he assumed it was a guy and not a woman), then he would hide _in_ it.

Doing the only thing he was good at doing, according to the Dursley's at least, Harry stayed quiet and made himself small to not draw attention to the shooter that he was there.

The person who Harry suspected had done the shooting lingered for a few moments afterward, although Harry had no way of knowing if the man was looking for him, or just making sure the person he had shot was dead. Finally, Harry was able to release the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding when the man ran off at the sound of approaching sirens. Someone must have called the police, Harry realized, or the police had been close enough to hear the shots and were coming to investigate.

Even after the last of the footsteps faded, he did not take a chance of venturing out of his hiding place and stayed hidden. He knew that silence did not mean safety in situations like this. There were times his uncle would be quiet to try to trick Harry into thinking one way when, in reality, it was another. Speaking of his uncle, Uncle Vernon, will be furious when he returns as it was getting late, and he was sure his uncle was going to have another early start tomorrow.

Plus, the guy could have always come back if he wanted to, and Harry didn't want to have a run-in with him.

Only, he didn't come back. The police came instead, not that Harry revealed himself to them either. He knew that he should do the right thing, the Gryffindor thing, and make himself known and tell them what he had witnessed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't that he didn't trust the police; it's just that they had never helped him in the past, so he didn't feel overly compelled to come out of hiding just to help them.

They had, on occasion, been sent to the Dursley's home when a neighbor complained about yelling and screaming coming from inside Number 4. When the police came to investigate the complaint, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always passed it off as having a domestic and the police didn't feel the need to investigate further. If they had just looked in the boot cupboard located under the stairs, they would have had cause for a different investigation. But, they never did. Choosing to believe that it had only been another disturbance call instead of what it actually was- not that the Dursley's had made it obvious that another child was living with them.

It wasn't like he could provide them with much information anyway if they asked-on account of losing his glasses. And when they got bored of questioning him, they would ask him why he was out alone so late, and return him to the Dursley's where the fun would really begin.

Feeling sure that the police wouldn't be checking the dumpster, or else they already would have, Harry, relaxed a bit and listened to what they were saying. There was no way the killer, as he had heard the police say the man had died, would return for him now with so many cops around scouring the place for clues.

Harry was surprised that none of the police had managed to find his glasses. Not that he knew where they were at, but he had thought they would have been somewhere near the guy who had been shot.

Harry remained quiet for several more minutes until the police seemed to start heading back to their cars and drive away.

He had thought he was in the clear after the police seemed to stop looking around and seemed to be just milling around until some more police types showed up. Harry wasn't sure if they were the police as the ones on the scene seemed to recap what they had already done and explain the little bit of evidence they had found.

After the one, Harry thought, was the leader of the new group, finished talking to the few remaining police; he started commanding the other people to take pictures and search for more evidence. This man sounded stern, who appeared to have little patience with his colleague's jokes as he was quick to delegate tasks to his team.

The police had decided to let the new group take over the case as several more cars left until the only ones left were the NCIS team, as he had heard them being called, and Harry. Harry hated this because it meant that it would be that much later before he could try to sneak away.

Harry wasn't sure what the NCIS did, or even what the abbreviations stood for, but he was sure that they were some sort of detectives.

It was only when one of them came within feet of him as they rechecked the area for any missed clues that Harry felt like his cover might be blown before he could bail.

Harry froze and curled up on himself as he tried to calm himself. He was somewhat surprised his pounding heart hadn't given him away yet. His heart almost leaped out of his chest when the man, DiNozzo, thought he heard someone call him, suddenly exclaim: "Hey, boss! I found some glasses over here!"

He heard someone walk over, but Harry didn't dare peek to see who it was. "I didn't think the Petty Officer wore glasses."

"That's because he didn't, DiNozzo!" The "boss," said.

"But why would there be glasses? We searched the whole area, and there's no one in sight."

"That means someone else was here! And they could still be here. Did any of you think to check that dumpster for the murder weapon?" The "boss," said. Harry thought he had heard one of them address the man as "Gibbs," but he didn't know, and so, for now, he would call the person "boss."

"Well, no. Hey McGoo, check out the dumpster, will you?" Tony called out before Harry heard the sound of someone getting slapped and instinctively flinched.

Harry can only assume that he had done something at that moment to alert them of his presence because suddenly, everything went silent. Before Harry had time to react or panic, clenched his eyes shut and hoped no one would check behind the dumpster.

A moment later, he heard, "Freeze! Put your hands up and freeze!"

Frozen in fear, Harry couldn't follow the man's command as he was too busy staring wide-eyed at the gun that was being pointed at his face.

"What the- there's a kid back here!" DiNozzo exclaimed in shock as he went to holster his gun.

"We've got eyes, DiNozzo. McGee, get Ducky, the boy's bleeding!" Came the woman's voice causing Harry's head to snap up and notice that she was on top of the dumpster and appeared to also be holstering her gun and jumping off the rubbish bin and landing beside DiNozzo.

Harry slowly unfurled himself. There was no hiding himself now that he'd been spotted.


	3. For the Rain to Fall

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing. Just inspired by the countless NCIS/HP crossovers I have been reading lately.

**Full Summary:** Everyone had always said Harry was special. True, the qualities that set Harry apart from the others changed drastically depending on who you asked. But everyone always agreed that Harry was special. He didn't want to be, but it will take a team of Muggles to show Harry that it is okay to be special as long as you are being true to yourself. NCIS/HP Crossover.

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**[ Chapter Two: For the Rain to Fall ]**

**Previously:** _Harry slowly unfurled himself. There was no hiding himself now that he'd been spotted._

With his heart racing faster than ever, Harry felt someone grab his bicep firmly but gently and pulled him up.

Knowing resistance was futile, Harry just went with it, not knowing what else he could do.

So that was how Harry found himself getting pulled from behind the dumpster and suddenly face to face with a middle-aged guy with light-colored, white or silvery-gray hair.

"It's all right, kid, you can relax. No one here's going to hurt you." The man said in a soft tone; Harry hadn't heard him use before; he acted like he was talking to a scared child.

He frowned at that. Right, because you don't just point guns into people's faces and not want to hurt them, or at least, without considering hurting them.

He didn't voice his thoughts as he began trying to figure out what they wanted from him, as he let his largely unfocused eyes darted from one hazy person to the next, not resting on anyone for too long.

His eyes snapped back to the man beside him when the "boss" moved beside him and slung a careful arm around his still too-thin shoulders and guided him away from the others and from the safety of the rubbish bin. "Come on, kid, let's get those scrapes looked at."

Harry had been proud of the weight he had managed to gain over the nine months he had been away from the Dursley's. Plus, with Wood's fanatical obsession with Quidditch, he had developed a good deal of muscle mass over the months. But that still, he was a fair way off from having the same well-fed appearance as the rest of his mates.

When the man draped his arm around him, he became all too aware of how he was still on the slight side and wondered if the man could feel his protruding shoulder bones. It was likely because his shirt was very thin and well-worn from the near-constant wear.

But that was the least of his concerns right now, as Harry stumbled along trying not to run into anything or trip over his feet when he stumped his foot on an uneven break in the road, he managed to catch himself before he took another spill.

"I'm Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, of the NCIS, but everyone calls me Gibbs." The man, whom, Harry had already suspected was named Gibbs said by way of greeting.

"I'm Harry, sir," Harry mumbled as he stumbled again over who-knows-what. He felt sure that he would have been reacquainted with the road if it hadn't been for Gibbs catching him. He wasn't usually this clumsy, but in his defense, it wasn't his fault the road beneath him wasn't level.

"Can't see or clumsy?" Gibbs asked as he caught Harry's weight with a cocked eyebrow.

"Er, can't see. I lost my glasses."  
"They wouldn't happen to be the ones DiNozzo found, would they?"  
"Probably," Harry admitted.

"Hey, DiNozzo, bring the kid his glasses!" Gibbs said in the tone Harry assumed he reserved just for DiNozzo, or maybe for anyone who wasn't some scared kid who suddenly turned up at a murder scene.

"But we're keeping them for evidence," the man whined in response.

"Now, DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked.

"Right away, boss!" the man said promptly, as relief flooded Harry. He would be able to see again and hopefully figure out how to get away from these people without getting the Dursely's involved.

Hearing someone approach, Harry felt someone grabbing his hand and putting his glasses in his bleeding palm before giving his hand a light a pat. Harry quickly pulled his hand from the man's clasp and shoved them on his face and blinked as he took in his surroundings with better clarity.

He found a sandy blonde-haired man with a crooked smile smirk at him while the gray-haired man was looking intently at him.

"Thanks."  
"You might want to think about asking your parents for some more glasses. These are just being held together by tape. Say, kid, what happened to you? Did you fall or trip?" DiNozzo said with a cheerful smile that slowly melted from his face, at Gibbs's direct and pointed glare.

"Right, boss, search for more clues." The man said while giving Gibbs a mock salute before turning on a heel and walked off, shouting at McLazy to start working.

"Ignore, DiNozzo." was the advice Harry was given as he found himself once again being steered towards a parked white van. "So, Harry, what happened? Did you trip or fall?"

Harry didn't say anything for a while, but the man was looking at him in a way that just dared him not to answer, so Harry gave in.

"I was pushed to the ground."

"Was that before or after you hid behind the dumpster?"

"Before. I lost my glasses when I was pushed."  
Gibbs stopped walking, at that point, and looking at Harry in a way that made Harry feel like the man was looking into his soul.

"I honestly don't know what happened! One moment I was walking along minding my business, and the next, I was being pushed and heard someone shooting a gun." Harry said in a rush while the agent just looked at him, his expression never wavered. He wasn't sure what the man wanted from him. If he wanted answers, Harry supposed he would try to help, but he really didn't know anything.

It must have shown on his face because Gibbs sighed. "We'll talk more about this later, but for now, we need to make sure we get those scratches looked at."  
"Got a live one for you, Ducky," Harry heard a moment later as he approached a hunched over man in glasses who looked to be even older than the agent beside him.

Harry was sure the man's name wasn't actually Ducky, but he stood up and walked his way over to them anyway.

"Found him hiding behind the dumpster, he's scratched up from being pushed," Gibbs said as he shrugged off his jacket and placed it securely around his shoulders. Harry wondered why the man even bothered wearing a jacket. Even late evening, early night, it was still very warm out.

The new man nodded before turning to Harry and offering him a reassuring smile.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Donald Mallard, but please call me Ducky." Harry belatedly realized that Ducky sounded a bit like Professor McGonagall.

"I'm Harry," Harry said again as the man motioned for him to follow.

"Just Harry?" The Scotsman questioned as he pointed at where he wanted Harry to sit as he grabbed a small first-aid kit from somewhere.

Harry smiled nervously while flattening his bangs over his scar.

"Harry Potter." Harry winced, hoping that he didn't have connections within the British magical community. He hoped the man would just pass it off as him wincing at the sting of his cuts.  
"British, are you?"

"Um, yeah."  
"What part of England are you from, lad?" The man asked while peering at Harry from over his glasses.  
"Surrey," The man didn't seem to recognize his name, that was good.

"Around London, isn't it?"  
"Yes, sir, about an hour's drive."

"I'm originally from Scotland myself, but moved to the area years ago and started working for NCIS." Ducky continued rambling while rolling up the pants legs before he checked the scratches on Harry's knees- they were skinned up pretty bad.

"So what brings you here to D.C.?"

"My uncle had a business trip. I live with him, my aunt and cousin. They're all back at the hotel." Harry tacted on at Ducky's raised eyebrows.

"No, parents?" said Gibbs, who had just come back from talking to someone, from where he was standing behind Ducky.

"No." Harry shook his head but didn't feel the need to elaborate on their deaths. All he'd probably get was sympathetic looks and the common 'I'm sorry. I know you miss them,' comment and Harry didn't want to hear it, not after tonight's events.

The air suddenly turned very serious as Gibbs crossed his arms and looked at Harry. "I take it, your guardians don't realize you witnessed a murder, tonight, do they?"  
"No, sir." Harry looked down, not being able to take the man's stare for any longer and mumbled "not that they would care," too softly for them to hear.

"What was that? You need to look up and speak up when you are talking to me."

Harry lifted his eyes, and shrugged and said a bit defensively, "They know I'm out." It was true if Harry wasn't at the hotel, then he was out, and as much as the Dursley's might like to pretend he didn't exist, they didn't have to when he wasn't around.

Harry knew that if this guy were a police officer type, he wouldn't just let it drop there, still Harry kind of hoped he would.

"I'd say we give them a call and explain to them what's going on," Gibbs said as he pulled out his cellphone, waiting for Harry to give him the number.

When Harry didn't say anything after a few moments, Gibbs dismissed Ducky, who had, by then, finished looking at his bruised and cut up knees.

After Ducky left, Gibbs stooped down in front of Harry to look him directly in the eyes. While the man was still speaking in a calming and kind tone, Harry could tell he was being very serious at the moment.

"We have a lot of questions to ask you about what you saw tonight, but we need your guardians' consent before doing so. It's half-past nine, Harry, too late for kids your age to be out alone. If you don't know your guardians' cellphone numbers so they can come and pick you up, then could you at least tell me where you are staying so that I can drive you back and talk to your guardians?"

"They aren't going to be happy with me," Harry said weakly, having all but made up his mind minutes ago that he wasn't returning to the hotel on that night.

He'd risk sleeping out in the streets if that met avoiding his uncle's wrath, it wouldn't have been the first time he had resorted to taking to the streets at night when he felt that it was safer there than at home. Tonight would be one of those nights as there was nothing stopping his uncle from "giving him the beating of his life," now that he was sure that no one was watching his every move. There was also nothing saving him either since he couldn't do magic outside of school.

Gibbs must not have understood the true meaning behind his words, as the older man gave him a small smile while clasping his shoulder firmly but in a comforting manner. "Not many parents or guardians would be pleased to see a police officer bring their kid home, but you did not do anything wrong, other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time and see something you shouldn't have. You are not in any trouble."

"Try telling that to my aunt and uncle," Harry whispered, but Gibbs wasn't an agent for nothing.

"Having troubles at home?"  
Harry jumped, not having expected the agent to pick up on it. "No. No, they just think I get in trouble a lot."

"And do you get in trouble a lot?" Gibbs questioned, he found it difficult to believe that the small boy in front of him could be involved with the police. The boy was too jumpy, too skittish, to be getting into criminal mischief. Though, Gibbs suspected that because the boy had just witnessed a murder, likely contributed significantly to his nervousness.

Harry smiled wanly as the night's events started to catch up with him now that most of the adrenaline had left him. "My friends like to say that trouble seems to find me."

Gibbs just laughed at the statement. "I know that feeling, kid. Come on; you're riding with me."  
"But what about…" Harry felt a little bit of desperation creep into his voice, as he vaguely gestured to the crime scene behind him.

"They can handle things for a few minutes," came the assuring reply as Gibbs as he told agent DiNozzo that he was in charge, and then repeated the same thing to Ziva, the female agent there.

Gibbs then took Harry to one of the cars and opened the passenger's side door for him before he walked around and slid into the driver's seat and started the ignition.

"What hotel are your relatives staying at?"  
"Hyatt Place, I think."

"That's a few miles away from where we're currently at," Gibbs said, keeping the surprise to himself that the kid had managed to walk so far from where he was staying. It made him wonder how long the kid had been out on his own, and why his aunt and uncle would allow him to be out so long, to begin with.

Harry didn't respond to the man's observation.

"Don't think you told me how old you are." He continued, after a few minutes of silence. Harry supposed now he was just trying to make small talk since they couldn't talk about anything else since the agent needed his aunt's permission to discuss what had happened prior.

"I'm eleven, going on twelve."

"Ah." Was the only response he got. Harry wasn't sure what he meant by that. What kind of response was "ah" anyway?

"How long have you been in D.C.?"  
"I arrived yesterday afternoon," Harry said softly as he became tenser as he began to recognize some of the buildings as they drew closer to the hotel.

"How long are you staying for?"  
"A week, I think. At least that's how long Uncle Vernon's business trip's suppose to be."  
Harry could see the agent's frown from the many street lamps that illuminated the drive up to the hotel's lobby area.

"Is that going to be a problem, sir?" Harry said anxiously as the car pulled into the loading/unloading area of the hotel.

"We will probably have to ask that you stay in the country for a few more weeks, as you are probably the only one to witness the crime, but we can work out those details later when it's not so late. What is your aunt's and uncle's names?"  
"Petunia and Vernon Dursley," Harry forced out. Oh, Merlin, his was really happening, wasn't it? Harry glanced at the clock in the car and noticed it was going on ten now. Yep, his uncle was going to be spitting mad with him.

Pulling up to the curb, right outside the front door, the agent parked the car and cut the car off and unlocking the door. With fumbling fingers, Harry unfastened his seatbelt and opened the door at the same time Gibbs came around and held the door open for him. Leaving the jacket the man had let him borrow in the passenger's seat, Harry crawled out.

The door shut softly behind him, and Harry distantly heard the car doors being locked as he prepared himself for his doom.

Walking side by side, Harry felt the trepidation increase by tenfold once they made past the sliding doors and into the lobby.

Walking up to the front desk, Harry lingered back while Gibbs spoke quietly to the woman before pulling out a wallet and showing the woman something in it. Harry wondered if it was an ID like he saw during some of Dudley's shows.

It probably was, as the woman frowned as her eyes drifted to Harry for a moment, nodded, and then back to the NCIS agent. She must have seen him come in with Gibbs, although it was a bit obvious as he was the only other person in the lobby besides an unshaven man who was helping himself to some late-night coffee at the coffee bar.

The woman eventually began typing on her computer before writing something down and then passing the note to Gibbs.

"Come on, Harry. I got the room number of your relatives. Hopefully, they won't be asleep yet."

Harry blanched. It didn't matter if the weren't asleep yet; he was still going to be in for it the moment Gibbs left.

Getting into the lift, Harry watched Gibbs press the button that would lead them to the floor his room was on. The ride was in silence as Harry became more jittery. Gibbs just eyed him speculatively. "Are you sure everything is okay between you and your relatives?"

"Yes, why?" Harry said while he looked at Gibbs like a deer caught in headlights. If the man even suspected something was wrong, then he was going to have to do a better job of hiding it.

"Just an observation," he said while motioning Harry to follow him down the corridor.

Stopping at the door of the room his relatives were renting for the week, Gibbs seemed to school his features again (Harry hadn't even realized that the man had taken on a more relaxed attitude) and knocked firmly on the door and waited.

When no one answered the door after a few minutes, Gibbs looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow, but the young wizard just shrugged helplessly. Knocking again, Gibbs stood back as he heard the sound of someone coming to the door while muttering loudly.

The door jerked open as Gibbs came face to face with the boy's very overweight uncle.

The man too consumed by fury at being woken didn't even realize that his nephew wasn't alone at first, "Boy! _If you don't stop_-"  
"Mr. Vernon Dursley?" Gibbs said, choosing to ignore the rudeness of the Brit before him.

Harry had only seen his uncle rendered speechless on one other occasion as he blinked in the sight of the NCIS agent holding his badge up to his face.

"Yes?" The man croaked as his eyes were still staring at the very official-looking badge before looking at Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs of the NCIS-" he started but was cut off when the beefy man looked behind him and saw Harry standing dejectedly.

The man's smile suddenly became very fake, and his voice falsely kind, "I am so sorry about my nephew." Before it became severe as he began addressing his nephew, "Get inside now you useless boy unless you are under arrest- then don't expect me to pay for your bail," His uncle's smile showed a bit too many teeth at that as Harry rushed past him.

"Vernon? What is it?" Harry heard his shrill aunt's called from a bit further into the hotel room.

And she worried that _he_ would keep her precious Diddums up all night. He wasn't the one that sounded like a yowling cat who was getting sat on by an elephant.

"Oh, just some police officer was bringing back the go- the boy. Go back to bed, Pet, I'll deal with this."  
"Petunia Dursley?" Gibbs said to get the woman's attention. Good if she was up, he could talk to both of them.

"Yes, who are you, and what do you want?" The thin woman said as she pulled her dressing robe around her body tighter.

"I'm Jethro Gibbs from the NCIS, may I come in for a moment. I need to talk to you about your nephew."  
"If he's done something wrong, then there's no need to bother us over it. Maybe a night in juvie will end up being what will set him straight." Petunia said with a sniff.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that. Harry was beginning to think the man just liked raising an eyebrow when someone's answer was unsatisfying.

Petunia realizing that she wasn't going to shake the officer that easily and fearing someone might be watching, quickly whispered. "Oh very, well, come in. Come in. But keep the noise down! My son is in the other room, trying to sleep. He's had an exhausting day and needs his rest for another busy day tomorrow."

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. Dudley having a busy day was the day Harry had a relaxing one.

"B-_Harry,_ you can go to your room now." Again with the sickly sweet voice, only this time, it was his aunt saying it. It probably tasted just as revolting, saying it as it was hearing it.

Harry turned to flee the room when he was stopped.

"I think it would be best for him to stay."

Petunia looked at Gibbs in shock, like she couldn't believe someone would actually want the boy around.

"I'm sure we can work it out-" Vernon started but was cut off almost immediately by Gibbs.  
"There are things we need to discuss now so that they can be dealt with-"  
"Then take the ruddy boy and deal with it!" Vernon shouted impatiently. "My wife and I are trying to get some sleep here!"  
Harry saw Gibbs level his uncle with a glare before continuing as if he hadn't just been rudely interrupted. "-tomorrow. Your nephew witnessed a murder tonight. He might be the only witness we have."  
"Murder?!" Vernon stuttered while looking at Petunia in shock. "What do you mean the boy's witnessed a murder?"

"We found Harry hiding behind a dumpster of a murder scene. We need his guardian's consent to question him."  
"Here, you have our consent," Vernon said while grabbing Harry by the collar and pushing him towards Gibbs. "Now take the boy and do whatever you need to do with him. Lock him up if he won't talk. I don't care, now get out of my hotel room so that my wife and I can get some sleep!"

"I expect you to be at the NCIS Headquarters by 0830 hours tomorrow," Gibbs said while giving the Dursley's a firm look. "Don't make me send someone to collect you."

"You have had a rough night, Harry, so try to get some rest," Gibbs said while smiling down at Harry before walking the length of the room and hall and letting himself out.

Petunia rushed after him to make sure the door was bolted while Harry's uncle rounded on him with a clenched fist and a very purple face.

Harry gulped.


	4. Pour Real Life

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing. Just inspired by the countless NCIS/HP crossovers I have been reading lately.

**Full Summary:** Everyone had always said Harry was special. True, the qualities that set Harry apart from the others changed drastically depending on who you asked. But everyone always agreed that Harry was special. He didn't want to be, but it will take a team of Muggles to show Harry that it is okay to be special as long as you are being true to yourself. NCIS/HP Crossover.

**A/N:** I have received quite a few flames about the overall story/plot.  
And in response, I say this: I can't find it in me to really care what you think. I write fanfiction for me and share it with you. Don't like my spin on things? Feel free to write your own- I don't own the plot.

* * *

**[ Chapter Three: Pour Real Life ]**

**Previously:** _Petunia rushed after him to make sure the door was bolted while Harry's Uncle rounded on him with a clenched fist and purple face.  
__Harry gulped._

He heard his aunt call after Gibbs, "How are we suppose to find that... that place without directions! We don't know where it's at, and you expect us to show up with the boy at 8:30 in the morning!"

Harry didn't hear the reply, if there even was one, as his Uncle came in close and snatched him by the ear and pulled him forward so that he could whisper heatedly into his ear.  
"What the ruddy _hell_ do you think you are doing coming in here at ten o'clock at night, boy? I told you if you are not here by the time we go to bed, _not_ to bother coming home at all!"

Harry risked a glance at his aunt, who had come back into the room. She was furious at Harry too.

Why did Mr. Gibbs have to leave him here? A night in jail would have been so much more preferable to spending the night here. Maybe Harry should have spoken up and said something was wrong when he had the chance. The man had obviously suspected something. But if he had suspected it, why had he just taken Harry's word for it? Why hadn't he pushed further?

"...-and with a police officer at that! What lies did you tell him, boy? And be quick about it before I decide to beat the answer out of you!"  
"I didn't tell him anything, Uncle Vernon! Honest, I didn't." Harry said, but he knew that when his Uncle got that particular look on his face, no amount of reasoning could reach him.

"Lies!" Aunt Petunia hissed in scorn. "Vernon and I know you told him something, freak, or else why would he have brought you back only to say he wanted to see you tomorrow?"  
"Thought you could be sneaky, eh, boy? Tell the man you saw a murder, but not tell him any details."

Harry knew better than to correct him.

"Got bored, I reckon, so you decided to witness a murder. Thought it'd give you something to do. A chance to spread lies about us." Vernon said as he broke out into a loud laugh.

"Shhh, Vernon! You might wake up, Dudley." His aunt pleaded, but Harry knew she wasn't doing it on his behalf. His aunt might not hit or knock him around nearly as much as Dudley did or even beat him as his Uncle would on rare occasions (like the one he was sure to get tonight), but she did not step in and intervene.

"The boy sleeps like his old man. He won't wake before you get him up in the morning." Vernon waved off her concern as he stared at Harry as a snake would stare at their pray.

"Figured that if you told him you saw a murder, he would listen to you? Well, he sure showed you didn't he? Didn't want to be bothered with you, pushed you back on us, he did. Just like the rest of those freaks! They don't want you either. No one wants a freak like you." Vernon snarled out as he began to approach Harry. Harry tried to flatten himself against the wall and make himself appear smaller than he was.

"Petunia, get my belt! It's time I teach this boy a lesson he won't soon forget!" and from the corner of Harry's eye, he saw Petunia scramble to do as his Uncle asked without glancing at her sister's son.

"They found you behind a rubbish-bin, did he say? They should have just left you there to rot as that's where trash belongs. And you're nothing but trash. Can't even stay out of our hair properly without getting into something you shouldn't be. The way I see it, you should have been the one that had been killed tonight. Bet the poor bloke had family who cared about him, unlike you, no one cares for a freak like you, absolutely no one.' Vernon said as he popped the belt ominously, causing Harry to jump at the loud and harsh noise.

"Your parents had to die just to get away from you, and for all we know, you could have been the reason why that other man was killed. Probably a hard-working, and upstanding individual in the world who had to meet the likes of you and get killed. You're a murderer, boy!" And with that accusation, his Uncle brought down the belt as his aunt just stood to the side and watched with grim satisfaction on her face.

"Just be careful where you hit him, Vernon. There's no telling what the boy told that man, and he said he would send someone if we didn't show up in the morning." Harry heard his aunt say anxiously.

But if Uncle Vernon heard her, he didn't acknowledge it. "Next thing you know, you could try to kill us, boy!" he said as he belted Harry.

Harry just fell to the ground and curled up on himself, trying to protect his head from the raining blows.

"But I won't let you. I'll kill you myself before I let you touch my family." And Harry knew his Uncle was telling the truth.

The whipping only stopped when his cousin came wandering into the small sitting area.

"Mummy, what's going on?" Dudley said as he rubbed his eyes and pretended to yawn in a way that could only fool his gullible parents. Harry didn't miss the nasty smirk his fat cousin sent his way.

"Oh, nothing to worry about, sweetums. Your dad is just teaching the freak a lesson; now go back to sleep, dear. We have another early start tomorrow, and your dad has a very important meeting in the morning."

"That's right, my, boy! There's no need to worry about the freak. Why don't you go back to sleep as your mum said? We've got to drop the boy off somewhere tomorrow, so we will have to get an extra early start. But I assure you it will be worth it."  
"Does this mean we're getting rid of him for good?!" Through the pain, Harry could hear the hope in the other boy's voice.

His Uncle laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. "We'll see about that, Dudley, but I have a feeling he won't be burdening us too much longer."

And with that, his aunt ushered her son from the room and let his Uncle do whatever he pleased.

What felt like hours later, but was probably only about half-an-hour later, his Uncle grew tired of beating him to a bloody pulp and left Harry laying in a heap on the floor.

It wasn't the worst, in the way punishments went, but Harry still hurt everywhere.

Just before he gave way to his mental and physical exhaustion, Harry hoped that somewhere, somehow, Agent Gibbs would realize the mistake he made by leaving Harry behind with his relatives. Not that he could hold it against the agent. It was hard to help freaks like him, freaks who were only good at putting other people's lives in danger and getting them killed.

* * *

After his parting words with the aunt, Gibbs ambled down the corridor letting his thoughts drift.

Gibbs had always been a man of principle; he had rules after all. The rules, he held everyone to, were all things he had learned throughout his years of service. They had become the core of who he was, who he had become. He just had to remember that.

He had also learned, in that time, that his gut instinct didn't lie. That alone had proven more helpful than any rule he could ever make.

And, yet, tonight, he chose not to listen to his gut. His gut had told him that not everything was as it seemed with the boy's relatives. Perhaps, he had gotten that feeling after he had taken to watch the boy's body language over the hour Gibbs had spent with the boy, but he had chalked it up to the night's events.

Harry seemed to be quite and a polite boy- almost unnaturally so. Not quite shy, but not outgoing like other boys his age. He also seemed terrified of something, Gibbs thought, at the time, he knew what it was. Harry would have every right to be afraid, as anyone in his position would have been, but oddly enough, it was only on the drive to the hotel that the young child seemed to become more agitated.

And that was what worried him. Something about the boy's reluctance to go back to his relatives set warning bells off. Harry had mentioned that his relatives would be mad at him for coming back to the hotel. At the time, Gibbs had thought that he meant that his relatives would merely be mad that he was being escorted back to the hotel by the police, assuming that he'd done something wrong and had gotten caught. Or perhaps mad at the hour that Harry was coming "home." But now, Gibbs wondered there if it might be something less innocent. In the elevator, the boy had been extremely tense and seemed to be caught off guard when he mentioned it as if he hadn't expected Gibbs to notice.

He'd witnessed how willing the child's aunt and uncle seemed to be for Gibbs to just take him, going even as far as telling him to lock him away for the night if need be.

After having another quick word with the receptionist behind the greeting desk, Gibbs left the hotel, against his better judgment.

It would only be a few hours, Gibbs reasoned, and most of those Harry would be asleep for.

Still, the whole way back to the crime scene, Gibbs couldn't shake the betrayal on Harry's face when he had said he'd see him tomorrow. And how, after a moment, the look of betrayal gave away to a look of resigned acceptance. As if the twelve-year-old had come to terms that he would be making the walk to the gallows alone.

Gibbs couldn't remember when a child had looked at him like that. The look of utter defeat as if he'd been let down one too many times by the law-enforcement and just accepted that Gibbs was just like the others.

"What are you hiding, Harry?" Gibbs muttered to himself as he pulled back up the taped-off area that was still teeming with his agents.

Still lost in thought, Gibbs maneuvered across the crime scene.

"How did it go?" asked Ziva just as she finished taking pictures.

"When we get back to the bullpen, I want you to get me any information you can find on the Dursley's."

Ziva frowned but agreed, "Why? Do you think they have something to do with the murder?"

Staring at the dumpster that they had found the boy hiding behind, Gibbs sighed. "No. I just have a feeling that there's more to the picture than what we're seeing."  
The longer he stared at the boy's former hiding place, the more he began to wonder how the boy managed to stay quiet enough not to alert the police. Surely the child knew that the police wouldn't harm him?

But again, Gibbs found him analyzing the boy's earlier body language. Just how had the boy managed to not draw attention to himself? The police department's incompetency aside, as they should have checked behind the dumpster, no child was naturally that good at hiding and keeping quiet.

Gibbs was confident that the kid wasn't exceptionally talented in the game of hide-and-go-seek because he wanted to be. Kids like that became good at hiding out of necessity, and it usually only became necessary to survive.

And while hiding from a trigger happy person was reason enough to be quiet, the way the boy was curled around himself, spoke that he was used to having to be silent, but also used to trying to deflect blows.

Suddenly everything clicked and fell into place, the odd behavior, the heightened anxiety during the drive over, the fear on the boy's face when he learned that Gibbs wouldn't be taking him with him.

At that moment, Gibbs did something he hadn't done in a while: he cussed. He'd have slapped his head, but there were too many agents around for that. He would have to do that later. _How_ had he been so _obtuse_ that he hadn't caught it? The signs were all there, all so blatantly clear, and yet he had left the child with his abusers. He had gone against his gut, the one thing he knew he could trust, and left the boy alone and defenseless without so much as a number to call if he needed to talk before morning came.

"Gibbs? What's wrong? Ziva asked, having been close enough to hear Gibbs.

"Get everyone and tell them we need to get to Hyatt Place now!" Gibbs barked as he ran to his car.

"What's wrong?" McGee questioned as he and DiNozzo came rushing over after having heard their boss's yell.

"I don't know, but-"  
"Stop talking and let's _go_!" The agent snapped as he got back into his car and sped off.

Having no choice but to take the other car, as Ducky and Palmer had taken the van with the body back to headquarters to start performing the autopsy, the three sprinted to the car so that they could follow their boss.

"_Hey_, I wanted to drive! Tony complained as he settled into the backseat after having lost the driver's seat to Ziva and the passager's seat to McGee.

"Too bad, Tony, you'll have to be faster than that- now hold on," Ziva said as she stomped on the accelerator. Their boss was already well out of sight by now.

"What's happening at Hyatt Place? Why are we going to a hotel? Is there some connection between the murder and the killer?"  
"I don't think so, McGee. The boy and his relatives are staying there," came the response as Ziva took a sharp turn, almost throwing Tony across the back seat.

"I told you to hold on!" Ziva snapped angrily as Tony tried to sit up while holding his hands up in the universal 'I'm okay' gesture, in case anyone was interested in knowing that he was, in fact, okay. McGee just smirked from the passenger's seat, nevermind the fact that he was clinging on to the grab handle as if his life depended on it.

"Geez, Ziva, can't you slow down? I'm pretty sure you're breaking the speed limit." Tony complained as Ziva began weaving expertly through the few cars still on the road.

"I can not." She said as she focused intently on the road.

A few minutes later, she took another sharp turn into the drive leading up to the hotel, causing Tony to fall over in the back seat again.

Screeching to a halt behind Gibbs's car, the three agents bailed from their vehicle and ran into the lobby. With Ziva's driving, they had managed to make what would have been a ten-minute trip in just under five.

Taking charge, Ziva marched up to the woman behind the desk and demanded to know where Gibbs had gone, not even bothering to identify herself.

The startled woman hastily told them the room number, having remembered it from the earlier inquiry by the same man who had just come running through the lobby a minute prior. She pointed to the elevator for good measure.

Following the direction of her point and rushing to the elevator, Ziva began tapping her foot impatiently while muttering, "Room 316...Room 316," again and again. Deciding that the elevator was taking too long, when she didn't know what kind of assistance Gibbs needed, Ziva ran for the stairs. DiNozzo and McGee were hot on her heels the whole time, and they managed to climb the flights of stairs in no time.

Upon reaching the third floor with their guns drawn, the three agents crept along the corridor, looking for room 316.

Some of the floor's residences had been woken up by the sounds of running feet and decided to investigate. Their curiosity was not enough to distract the agents from finding room 316 and their boss.

When they finally came across the room, the door had been thrown open and left open by the door-stopper which allowed the agents to storm in. It took them only a second to find Gibbs in a bedroom holding a rotund man and his equally overweight son who was trying to hide behind his pencil-thin mom at gunpoint.

Tony and Ziva looked at each other. Gibbs tried to spare women, if possible, and he never tried to get children involved- meaning something must have been really wrong for him to keep the gun trained on the startled and protesting family.

"Take care of them! David, call for an ambulance. I have a feeling will be needing it." He snarled out, never taking his gun off of Mr. Dursley until DiNozzo and McGee had managed to wrestle him into cuffs and move him out of the room as McGee worked to slap a pair on the woman, who was screeching and trying to fight him. Tim was quickly able to overpower her.

They didn't slip any on the child, on account of his age, but they would be keeping a close eye on him all the same.

When the adults were secured and separated, Gibbs raced out of the room. Ziva followed. Cellphone in hand, she found out why Gibbs had been in such a hurry to get back when they reached the suite's small sitting area.

The witness laid unconscious on the floor. Taken what she knew from the minor injuries he had received earlier in the evening, she could tell the boy had taken a beating since then.  
Pulling the phone up to her ear, Ziva rattled off the necessary need-to-know information to the dispatcher as she watched her boss kneel beside the child.

"He's breathing's steady." She heard him say while just as the boy began to stir.

"Harry?" Gibbs said as he tried to rouse the child further as he reached for the boy's glasses that had been knocked off his face for the second time that night.

Hearing his name, Harry's eyes fluttered open and saw Gibbs' figure over him. Carefully slipping the glasses on the boy's face, Gibbs stared at the boy's startling emerald green eyes.

"You came back," Harry whispered, marveling over the fact that Gibbs had come back so soon after leaving him. "No one's ever come back for me."

"Yes, well, rule #3, Harry, is never believe what you are told, always double-check."


End file.
